


Promises not said but pressed into your skin

by Khalehla



Series: Requests [8]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, German National Team, International Break, Love/Hate, M/M, Mild angst I think, Not quite a relationship, Oblivious, Reassurances, Rival Relationship, SO MUCH FLUFF, but less hate now and more... affection?, but they're trying!, they just need to talk already, they'll get there eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10411803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: The art of wanting to say something without actually saying it: as demonstrated by two oblivious dorks.aka, Marc-André ter Stegen and Bernd Leno's guide to not talking.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firetruckyeah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firetruckyeah/gifts).



> ... you asked for fluffiness and Marc being reassuring, so here you go. It's not exactly how you asked, and well, I'm pretty bad at writing fluff anyway, but I hope you still enjoy it!
> 
> Story set during the international break of Poldi's farewell match.

It takes some maneuvering, but Marc-André finally makes it up to the floor of the hotel that the team is staying in at around 10.30. He’s pretty sure that no-one is asleep yet what with everyone getting all pumped up for Lukas’s farewell game, and Marc really hopes whoever Bernd’s roommate is, he’s either someone he can easily ask for some privacy, or preferably, still downstairs. He’d waited until the second night of break before doing anything, and he would have waited until they were in Azerbaijan where they would have their own rooms, but Bernd had been off since he’d arrived, and it had set Marc’s teeth on edge seeing his counterpart acting so strangely.

There’s a pause after his tentative knock, and then he recognises Bernd’s voice call out a muffled “one second”; when the door swings open, Bernd gapes at him.

“Hey,” Marc says when the Leverkusen just stands there staring at him, “is this a bad time? Can I come in?”

Bernd blinks, then steps back. “No. I mean sure. Come in.”

“No roommate?” Although there’s two open suitcases, one bed still looks made, and Marc recognises Bernd’s laptop sitting on the other one.

“Mülli’s still downstairs,” Bernd says. He looks confused as to why Marc is making such a public visit, and Marc really can’t blame him. “You need anything?”

“I just wanted to check up on you.”

Bernd blinks. “What?”

Marc chooses to ignore the confusion and really looks at his counterpart. He’d heard what happened at the time - Bernd’s nose getting broken and him having to have surgery - and although he’d wanted to call or text, he hadn’t in the end because he just wasn’t in any headspace to really give talking to the Leverkusen keeper any focus. The last few weeks at Barcelona had been a rollercoaster ride, and even now he was still slightly edgy from everything that’s happened at his club. But now that they’re here, Marc can give Bernd his full attention.

“It doesn’t look too crooked,” he mutters almost to himself, squinting at Bernd’s nose.

“Geez, really?” Bernd laughs, tipping his head back and to the side so that Marc can’t get a good look anymore. “Stop staring at me.”

Instead of easing off, Marc moves closer and takes Bernd’s face in his hands. Bernd freezes, stops laughing. “Marc… what do you want?”

“Told you, just checking you’re okay.”

“Of course I am, I’ve been playing since then.”

“I know,” Marc agrees, tilting Bernd’s head to the side and back, checking every angle for, - he doesn’t really know what, really. But he checks anyway, just so he knows he’s done it. “How is it, then?”

“Well I can breath.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Marc sighs but doesn’t let go. “Has it healed properly? It’s not causing you discomfort?”

There’s almost an awkward silence, and Marc lifts his gaze so that they’re actually looking at each other. Bernd looks confused at his confusion. Why? Why would Bernd look like he doesn’t know why Marc is concerned?

“It’s pretty much okay now,” Bernd finally says, but it’s hesitant, like he’s not sure it’s the correct answer.

Marc steps back, lets his hands drop from Bernd’s face. All of a sudden he’s just as hesitant as the other keeper and it unsettles him. They’d been good lately - meaning they hadn’t been antagonising each other as per usual and they’d even managed to keep up the relative ease and fun of their pseudo-relationship since the Euros - and Marc’s not sure what changed. But he knows Bernd too well, and he can sense that pushing him right now is just going to make the Leverkusen keeper shut down even more. So he lets it go. Just for now. There’s still a little bit of time. He hopes.

“I’m glad,” he says, and then swallows down the irritation when Bernd looks even more surprised. _Patience_ , he tells himself. “I should go before Mülli gets back. But. But we’ve got our own rooms in Baku - I’ll see you then, okay?”

Marc is relieved when Bernd nods, knowing exactly what Marc means.

The next few days are taken up with finally catching up with international teammates and training, and the shift in dynamics with having Kevin there at the beginning of camp lasts all the way to Azerbaijan. Maybe it’s because he’s gotten quickly used to it being him and Bernd with Manuel, or maybe it’s because Kevin is a truer rival considering the similarities in age and that they’ve all been playing 2nd, 3rd and 4th choice to Manuel for years. Or maybe it’s because Bernd has been tentative and less aggressive around him during training - still as intense as ever, but not so much as personal competition as it had been previously. Either way the goalkeeper training is unfailingly _polite_ , and it’s strange; Marc doesn’t really know if he’s surprised that he dislikes it soo much.

He waits until it's late into the first night in Azerbaijan before checking in with Bernd. Even though Marc hadn’t pre-warned him about dropping by, Bernd still should have known that Marc was going to show up at his door because Marc had specifically told him so when they were in Dortmund, so Marc can’t help but feel annoyed when Bernd looks surprised that he’s standing there.

“Can I...?”

Bernd steps back quickly to let him in.

God, it’s awkward. It makes Marc’s skin itch to think that they’re now so formal towards each other when they’ve never been like this, not even back in the youth before the rivalry really kicked in. He hates it. Really, really hates it. Enough that he’s willing to do almost anything to get them back to normal. But first he has to find out why the Leverkusen keeper is acting this way.

“Hey,” he says, then wants to kick himself because _really?_

But it makes Bernd smile so he guesses it’s not too bad.

“Can we talk?” Marc asks.

Oh wonderful. The classic ‘we need to talk’ break-up line. _Good one, Marc._

But they’re not breaking up. Firstly because they’re not exactly dating. And secondly, dating or not, ending their pseudo-relationship is the exact opposite of what Marc wants to do.

“Sure,” Bernd shrugs, then sits on his bed, waiting for him to start.

He stares straight back. “So. Um.” _Very eloquent._ Christ, how hard can this be?

“You’ve been acting strange this break.”

Bernd just keeps looking at him. “I am?”

“Yes!” Marc tries not to grab his hair in frustration. “You’re being… nice. And very, very polite. I’d like to know why.” As much as it had been nice to see Bernd acting so considerate and courteous, it’s so out of character that Marc feels like it’s all just an act. He really does hate it.

“I’m always nice,” Bernd protests mildly.

“To everyone else, but not to me!”

“You want me to go back to being a dick to you?”

“If it will mean you go back to being yourself, then yes,” Marc finds himself agreeing. “I prefer the real you, not some polite little robot that you’re bringing out and showing off.”

“Are you for real?” Bernd asks, disbelieving. “You want to go back to the pettiness and name calling?”

“No! I just want the real you, not this fake person you’re hiding behind!” Marc tries not to yell. “Why are you being like this?”

“Being like what?”

“This! This isn’t you!”

“I’m not being anything but me!” Bernd disagrees, getting up to pace. “Why do you care, even?”

Marc stares for a few seconds. “Why do you think I wouldn’t?” he asks, not sure why Bernd would even say that. Did the other keeper really think he didn’t care?

“Because you don’t!” Bernd says, making a swiping movement with his hand, showing real emotion for the first time since break started.

“Of course I care; why do you think I’m here?”

Bernd gives him a hard look. “Because you-,” he starts, then runs his hand through his hair. “Never mind.”

Marc moves closer then stops himself abruptly when his counterpart flinches. Jesus, what was happening here? Bernd had never been afraid or alarmed at being near Marc, when this did change happen? What the hell even caused? He hates this. Really, really hates this.

“Bernd, I just want to know if something’s wrong,” he says, gentle this time.

But this tactic just makes Bernd look away. “It’s alright. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Why do you-.” The words come out as the frustration flares in him, but he catches them before he can complete the sentence and make Bernd retreat even further. He wasn’t going to win by pushing like this. Marc doesn’t even know why he’s still here considering it’s pretty clear Bernd’s been pushing him away all break. All he knows is that he hates this distance between them and wants to fix it. But he can’t do this if Bernd doesn’t want to talk to him.

“Please don’t do this,” he says softly. He never ever thought he’d be reduced to pleading like this, but it’s his last try, and it might as well be all-in.

It surprises Bernd enough that he turns around. “Do what?”

“Whatever it is that makes you think I don’t care, it’s not true. I’m probably horrible at showing it, but I do. Care. About how you’re going.”

There’s another awkward silence as they stare at each other, Bernd trying to find something in Marc’s face that Marc desperately wants to give if he only knew what.

Eventually Bernd sighs and turns away again. “It’s okay. It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing.”

Bernd just shrugs.

Marc takes a tentative step forward; Bernd stiffens but doesn’t flinch away again, so Marc slowly bridges the gap between them, giving the other keeper time to pull back if he wanted to. It’s still awkward and uncomfortable as hell, so Marc steps around and behind him, gently resting his chin on Bernd’s shoulder but doesn’t make any extra move to touch him further. It’s much easier when they’re not having to look at each other.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Marc says softly, “but don’t not talk about it because you think I don’t care. I worry about you, you know. You’re throwing yourself around a bit too much and it’s not good. I know you’re worried about how your team is going in the league but don’t take unnecessary risks, okay?”

Bernd inhales, obviously wanting to say something so Marc cuts him off by placing a hard kiss to the side of his neck. “I know you’re all worried,” he says again, “but you guys aren’t playing badly. You just haven’t had much luck on your side. You guys will get there, you always do; but you can’t keep throwing yourself in front of people’s boots like that.”

“I didn’t exactly do that on purpose, you know,” Bernd says with just enough snark in his voice to make Marc smile. “It’s not like I actually enjoyed getting kicked in the face and having to have surgery.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’d hate to think you were doing that to impress Jogi ‘cause he was in the crowd.”

Bernd stills ever so slightly and Marc lets out an annoyed huff. “What the _hell,_ Leno! Did you really have to do that? Why?”

Bernd huffs in annoyance as well. “What? You really think I would do that? Get injured deliberately? _Jesus._ ”

“I’m almost tempted to say yes,” Marc admits. When Bernd makes a move as though he’s about to step away, Marc presses himself into the other keeper so that his chest is flush up against Bernd’s back. He doesn’t do anything else, still gives Bernd the chance to move away if wanted to, and Marc is grateful when he doesn’t. “You don’t need to impress Jogi. Or Andi, for that matter. They already know what you can do. You’re not gonna get dropped off the roster just because Leverkusen aren’t doing so well at the moment.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Bernd says after a pause, and Marc brushes his lips against his counterpart’s neck again, acknowledging how hard it must have been to admit that.

“No, but you getting injured will keep you off the team for sure. Who am I gonna annoy if you’re not here?”

This actually makes the other keeper laugh and Marc can almost feel Bernd rolling his eyes.

“I like having you here,” Marc adds softly. “It’s not the same without you.”

There’s silence for a few long seconds, then Bernd slowly and tentatively reaches back to brush his hand against Marc’s, linking their little fingers briefly before saying, “yeah.”

Marc takes it as a win and doesn’t push. It’s enough for now that Bernd isn’t questioning his motives or actions anymore because he doesn’t really know what else he can do to make Bernd believe that he does care. “It’s late and we’ve got early practice tomorrow so we should get some sleep.”

Bernd nods and moves towards his bed but Marc doesn’t follow him. He instinctively knows that things are too fragile so pushing for more will probably make things worse, not better, so he heads for the door, calling out a quiet “good night, sleep well” before letting himself out.

The tension and formality during training ease away after that, and Marc is so relieved. Even though they keep to their separate rooms the whole time, Marc makes it a point to stick his head into Bernd’s before going to bed just to say good night. Bernd rolls his eyes at him and calls him an idiot, but the smile is back and Marc knows that it’s worth it. Not that the extra 5 minute detour is a hardship anyway.

The night before the Azerbaijan match, he’s practically asleep when he hears a soft tapping on his door. Marc is confused because the only person who could be knocking this late (alright so it was only 10, but it was game day tomorrow and everyone always headed to bed early the night before a match) should have already been asleep too. Marc knows this because he’d just tiptoed back 15 minutes ago after his nightly check in. When there’s another set of tapping, he throws his blankets off and pads to the door. Marc is pleasantly surprised when he sees that it _is_ Bernd.

The other keeper is fidgeting, looking around the empty corridors nervously, and quietly asks, “Can I…?”

Marc lets him in quickly, then makes his way back to his bed, crawling in and moving from the centre of the bed to “his side” (Jesus, when did they start having their own sides?). He’s already wrapped in his blankets and has his eyes closed for a minute before he even feels the dip in the bed, and Marc lets out the relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding. When he feels Bernd slide closer but leave a small gap between them, he rolls to his side facing the door, then wriggles back until they are just touching. Marc starts drifting to sleep with a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his stomach.

He’s then rudely awakened by cold feet pressing themselves into the back of his calves.

Marc gasps in shock, sitting up and glaring down at Bernd who is laughing silently at him. “Asshole!” he says, but there’s no heat in it and the Leverkusen keeper just giggles some more. “Was that really necessary?”

Bernd shrugs, then pulls the blanket up so that it’s only his eyes showing. Marc can’t believe he hasn’t melted into a puddle at how adorable Bernd looks right then. To hide this moment of weakness, he huffs, then lies back down, flinching when Bernd places his frozen limbs back against his legs.

“Why are your feet always so cold?” he complains. “You’re like a popsicle.”

“Personal heater,” Bernd replies, as though that even made any sense; he then presses his face between Marc’s shoulder blades.

Praying that he hasn’t completely misinterpreted the moment, Marc slowly turns over, then starts shifting Bernd around until the other keeper’s back is tucked into Marc’s chest and those freezing limbs are trapped between his legs. “The things I do for you,” he says in fake exasperation.

“You complaining?”

Marc’s pretty sure that the question is the usual banter that they normal exchange, but just to be sure, he kisses the back of Bernd’s neck. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Bernd doesn’t respond, just laces his fingers into the hand that’s resting on his stomach, and Marc nuzzles into Bernd’s hairline in delight. He has no idea why Bernd is letting him get this close, but it's nice having someone to cuddle with once in a while, and Marc's not going to question it; if they both think about it too much they'll probably come up with a reason to stop, and he really doesn't want to. So he settles in and tightens his arms a little bit more. It takes less than a minute for them to fall asleep.

When Bernd’s phone starts beeping at godawful o’clock so that the other keeper can go back to his room, Marc blinks sleepily up at him. “I’ll see you later?”

Bernd pauses at the door, then says “if we win” before closing it softly behind him.

Marc knows it’s a challenge, and he grins into his blankets.

They win the game, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Huh. So I'm posting this the night before the Azerbaijan game on the assumption that they will win lol
> 
> And yes, they're both quite obtuse and oblivious here, mainly because the story takes place in the [Frienemies](http://archiveofourown.org/series/559411) timeline and leads into the [Souls on Fire](http://archiveofourown.org/series/433543) universe (and omg, I just love how everything is just tying into each other so nicely), so they haven't quite figured themselves out yet. They get there, eventually. But not just yet.
> 
> \--  
> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I write **fiction** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


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